


Day 1: Nurse/Baker Verse "The Perfect Pie"

by bluest_skies



Series: Destiel Smut Brigade AU Challenge [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Baker!Castiel, But sorry there's none here yet, Cas is a little drugged up and Dean is amused, First Meetings, Fluff, It really is quite fluffy, Kissing, M/M, Rated for eventual smut, nurse!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluest_skies/pseuds/bluest_skies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting at a bakery one early morning, a hand injury, and a sloppy first kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 1: Nurse/Baker Verse "The Perfect Pie"

**Author's Note:**

> So for the September challenge, I'm breaking away from my usual and trying fluff. No clue what I'm doing. So....enjoy?

"Yo, Dean. There's a guy in Trauma 3 asking for you.”  
  
Dean finished making his notes on a patient chart before looking over his shoulder at Garth, one of the other five nurses on duty that evening. "Who is it?" He frowned. It obviously wasn't Sam or Garth would have just said so.  
  
"Casteel? Castle? He's kind of out of it, but he's definitely asking for you.”  
  
"Jesus, Castiel?" Dean shot up out of his chair just as the ER doors smacked against the wall, paramedics calling out vitals and stats as they rolled a stretcher in. “I'll take this one. Go check on your friend.” Garth took off at a jog, following them into another trauma room.  
  
Dean made his way down the hallway towards Trauma 3, peeking into the small window of the door before pushing his way inside the room. "Shit."  
  
Castiel was laying on his back, a hand thrown across his face, the other being worked on by Dr. Singer. The cuffs of Cas' shirt were darkly stained with spatters of varying sizes down the front.  
  
“Hey,” Dean whispered as he stepped over to watch Dr. Singer work. “Is he ok?”  
  
Dr. Singer snipped off the long ends of the suture threads and set the scissors on a side table. “Yeah he's fine except for damn near cutting half his hand off. I assume you know him. He's been asking for you.”  
  
Dean nodded. “Yeah. Just had a rig come in and they could probably use you. I'll finish up in here.”  
  
Dr. Singer washed up at the sink. "I'll get him a prescription for some pain medicine and then he can go home."  
  
"Thanks, doc." Dean waited until it was just the two of them in the room before taking a seat next to the bed. “Cas?"  
  
Castiel peeled his hand away from his face and smiled. “Deeeeeean, you're here.”  
  
Dean chuckled. “And apparently you're high. They give you some good stuff, bud?”  
  
“Mmmmm. I hurt my hand.”  
  
“I see that.” The stitches started at the outside corner of his left wrist and traveled up, across his palm, ending at the bottom his index finger. Jesus Christ. "I'm going to finish cleaning your hand and get it wrapped up, ok?" Dean carefully worked alcohol swabs around the suture to clean the remaining blood and grabbed a pack of gauze.  
  
“Deeeeean?”  
  
“Yes, Cas?”  
  
“You're very pretty.”  
  
Dean cursed as he fumbled with the roll of gauze, dropping it on the floor. Snipping it off, he taped the end piece down, and opened another package to resume his work. “Ok, now I _know_ you're high.”  
  
“ No no no no, Dean I'm serious. I'm so serious, ok?” Cas struggled to sit up and Dean grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him back down.  
  
“Cas, just lay back ok? I need to finish wrapping your hand and then we can talk about it.”  
  
“Yeah ok. Imma lay here.” Castiel smacked his lips together and grimaced. “Dean? I think I'm gonna be sick.”  
  
Dean sighed.  
  
~*~  
  
Castiel had finally fallen asleep after he had quite thoroughly emptied his stomach. Dean sat beside him on a stool, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. He'd only known Cas for a few months, walking into his bakery one very early, very cold November morning. Dean had a spectacularly shitty shift that night and instead of taking his car home, he'd just started walking. It was early enough that the streets were still empty, the window fronts dark. Except for one. Dean had stood there on the sidewalk for a few minutes, watching as this dark-haired man had rolled and pressed and kneaded dough on the counter top, flour swirling around him, like the snow had been swirling around Dean outside.  
  
Assuming the store was open, Dean had jerked on the door handle to find otherwise, startling Cas out of his work. He never decided if Cas could tell he was in funk or if he was just a nice guy, but he had let Dean in anyway, giving him coffee and some leftover pie from the day before. Since then, Dean had stopped in there every morning after work, sometimes engaging in conversation, sometimes just sitting in silence, eating his pie and drinking coffee, watching Cas work.  
  
Dean looked down at Cas, ruffling a hand through his hair, damp from sweat. He wanted to pass off what Cas had said as the doped up rambling it most likely was, but his stomach fluttered at the thought that maybe Cas was actually interested in him. For the past few weeks, Dean had been trying to work up the nerve to ask Castiel if he might like to go to dinner. Or coffee. Anything really. But it just never seemed to be the right time or customers would come into the shop or he would just turn into a huge chickenshit.  
  
The sound of Cas croaking out his name startled Dean from his thoughts.  
  
"I'm right here. How ya feeling?"  
  
"Like I've been run over." Cas brow furrowed, teeth biting into his bottom lip. "My hand is killing me."  
  
"Well you did try to slice it in half. I'm off in a few minutes. We'll get you some pain meds and then I'll take you home ok?"  
  
"Yeah...thank you, Dean."  
  
"Sure thing, Cas. Sit tight, I'll be right back."  
  
~*~  
  
Dean thought he would have had more luck trying to wrangle up a herd of feral cats than get a drugged up Castiel up the damn stairs to his apartment, both of them nearly toppling down on more than one occasion.  
  
He stripped Cas down to his boxer briefs (with very little ogling, thank you very much) and tucked him into bed, injured hand propped up on a pillow. Cas tracked his movements, eyes glazed over and half closed.  
  
"You get some sleep alright? I'm gonna go home and catch a nap. My number is programmed into your phone, so call if you need anything."

 

“You can stay if you're tired.” Cas sighed deeply as the medicine started to take effect. “Have a guest room,” he muttered.  
  


“Um, sure. I can stay if you like, Cas. Get some rest alright? I'll come check on you in a little while.” Dean turned to go, but then stopped as Cas called out to him.

  
"Dean wait," Cas slurred. "I gotta...C'mere." His uninjured hand flopped around in a vague gesture that Dean took as a bid to come closer.  
  
He perched on the edge of the bed and Cas shook his head. "Noooo. C'mere Dean." Dean bit back a chuckle and leaned in close, thinking Cas was going to whisper in his ear. His eyebrows nearly flew off his face when instead, Cas leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss on the edge of his nose. As kisses went, it certainly wasn't the worst (that honor was reserved for Rhonda Hurley, who in the fifth grade kissed him right on the lips beside the monkey bars, then kicked him in the shins and ran off), but as a kiss from Cas, even as far off from the target as it was, it made his skin warm and tingly.  
  
By the time his brain had kicked back into gear, Cas had flopped back down on the pillow asleep.  
  
~*~  
  
"No, Dean, you have to--yeah like that. Now you turn it and slice them--no no, not like that, they won't be even. Here, let me do it."  
  
Once Cas' hand had started to feel well enough to ditch the pain meds, Dean started coming into the shop to help (as much as he was able given his non-existent experience with baking) get things prepared so Cas could open in the morning.   
  
Dean dodged Cas' grabby hands and tsked. "I think you've had enough knife usage for a while there, Edward Scissorhands."  
  
Cas' brow furrowed in confusion. "What? That doesn't even make any sense."  
  
"Whatever. It's slicing apples. I think if I can stitch a person back together I can slice some apples. Just calm down." Dean grabbed another apple and started hacking away. Cas cringed.  
  
"They have to be the same size, Dean, so they cook evenly. This way, you're going to have pieces that are still crunchy."  
  
"Cas. It's pie. You literally cannot fuck up pie."  
  
~*~  
  
So maybe Dean had fucked up the pie. He had no idea how half the crust could be raw, but the other half burnt to a crisp. Honestly he blamed his one-handed baker.  
  
While the pie baked, Cas had been explaining (again), how to pinch the perfect pie crust and Dean was really trying to pay attention. Except there was this smudge of flour across Cas' cheek distracting him and before Dean could stop himself, he had reached out to wipe it away, his fingers lingering on Cas' skin.  
  
Dean wasn't even sure how it happened, him pressed up against the counter top, not caring how it dug into the flesh at the small of his back. All he could register was the feel of Cas' body lined up against his own, firm and warm, tongues sliding together, moaning into each other's mouths.  
  
Cas had eventually pulled away, gasping. "Dean, I think something is burning."  
  
' _I am_ ,' Dean's brain had screamed at him. ' _Burning right out of my fucking skin_.' He didn't care. Everything could burn down around them so long as he could hold onto that delicious heat that was currently whipping through his body.  
  
"Shit! The pie!" And then Cas was gone, leaving Dean with a throbbing erection and his body on fire.  
  
Dean stared down at the sad looking pastry. "Well. That didn't go well."  
  
Castiel huffed out a laugh. "Not especially, no." His brilliant smile caused Dean's brain to short circuit momentarily.  
  
"Sorry I ruined it. Guess I'm not cut out for the culinary arts, huh?"  
  
Cas' face softened and a look Dean couldn't quite decipher passed over his features. "It's not ruined at all, Dean." Reaching across the counter, Cas grabbed a fork from the plastic utensil holder and dug out a portion that was neither raw nor burnt. "This part right here? Perfect."  
  
Dean decided right there as his tongue slipped past Cas' lips that the taste of Castiel and apples was his favorite flavor.

 


End file.
